The Groan
by KennFlores5
Summary: John is jealous. The damn woman left her damn breathy moan on Sherlock's damn phone. He has to do something about it. And he knows exactly what to do. It's all rated T but one chapter is considered M rated.
1. Chapter 1

_Ahhhhh._

John Watson has had enough. He growls as the dratted phone makes another sensual sound and he lays his newspaper on the table.

"Going somewhere?" Sherlock grumbles, fiddling with his phone.

"Store." comes John's clipped answer.

He pulls on his jacket forcefully and heads toward the door.

"Bring me the foot from the morgue. Molly should have it." he demands.

"No." John scowls and he stomps down the stairs. He opens the door and the crisp air bites at his nose. He heads toward Tesco's, relieved he still has Sherlock's card from his last trip to the store so he doesn't have to head back.

A few hours later, after having stalled for as long as was able, John finally walks back home, bags in tow and shoulder hurting. Never having been able to deny Sherlock, he has the sordid foot in a cooler. He heads up the stairs and he almost bellows and drops the groceries when he hears that stupid moan. He storms upstairs and flings the door open.

"Can't you do something about that? Buy a new phone and get rid out this one?"

Sherlock turns to face John, his eyebrow cocked and his phone in his hand.

"Why does it bother you so much?"

He walks closer to John and leans in to his face. John sucks in his breath, his eyes widening.

"Pupils are dilated. Heart beat quickening. Hand twitching. Oh. I see."

He pulls back and flops onto the couch.

"You're jealous. You want the woman to have flirted with you. You hate that she decided to choose me instead. Don't worry John. She wasn't my type. Too cocky and arrogant. Did you bring the foot?"

John's mouth drops and his eyes widen even more.

"Oh, do stop with that face. It's not very flattering."

"Sherl- I….. no… you…"

"'It's all fine' as you had said before. You might want to give up this silly crush you have on her. She's in America and thriving with her assistant."

"Sherlock, I never liked her. I just think it's….. inappropriate." John blushes.

Sherlock's eyes narrow and he peers at John. He blushes harder and drops the bags on the table, happy that he hadn't decided on buying anything worth putting away. He walks upstairs and changes into his pajamas once in the confines of his own room. _How did Sherlock come up with that deduction? It's better than him actually figuring out why I hate that stupid ring tone and that stupid woman. I need a plan._

John snuggles onto his bed, happy with his scheme. He needs a lot of sleep, what with all the work he has to do tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

John's internal alarm beeps and he wakes up, stretching his body and relishing the feel when his bones pop. He sits up and swings himself out of the bed. He grabs some clothes and heads into the bathroom. John frowns when he sees it's clear of toes and intestines. Shrugging, he showers and dresses quickly, the cold autumn air biting at his wet form. He walks into the kitchen and starts the kettle. He puts away the groceries, used to Sherlock not doing anything to benefit others. He drinks a cup of tea and has some toast. As he unfolds the newspaper, a note flitters out. It's impeccable writing is easily recognized as Sherlock's.

_Lestrade had a case.  
__I will be back later on tonight.  
__SH_

John sighs. It seemed like Sherlock was less needful of John more recently. He frowns and his heart twinges painfully. Soon enough, Sherlock would barge in, his black coat flowing and he'd kick John out, saying he was no longer necessary. He gets up and puts his plate and mug in the sink. He sits on the couch and turns on the telly. He watches The Mighty Boosh, laughing at the ridiculous characters and plots. Soon enough, his stomach grumble and he decides to wait until six to head over to Angelo's for dinner. _Well, this day was a waste _he thinks to himself sadly. The time passes and he gets up to leave. He slips on his coat and pulls on his shoes. John goes down the stairs and, mercifully, a cab stops when he flags it down. The way there is quiet and John wishes that Sherlock was alongside him, his gorgeous eyes watching the world outside. The cab pulls to a stop and John pays the man, who thanks him with a smile. He walks up to the door and Angelo greets him with a bellow and asking where Sherlock is.

"Hullo Angelo. Sherlock's out on a case."

Angelo seats him at the usual table which seems to always be empty, "And he didn't take you along? How odd."

"Dunno. I think he's getting sick of me."

"I don't think so. He still looks at you with adoration like he usually does."

John blushes, "It's not like that, though God knows I wish it was. He's infatuated with this idiotic woman. Anyways, I'll have some basil tomato soup and a cup of coffee."

Angelo smirks and heads back to the kitchen. John finishes his dinner and his phone beeps. He opens it to find a text from Sherlock.

**Received 19:23 from Sherlock  
****I need your help.  
****It is for the case.  
****Come to Red Lion Pub.  
****48 Parliament Street, Westminster  
****SH**

He sighs and texts back:

**Sent 19:24  
****You're lucky I'm nearby.  
****Be there in ten.**

John pays the bill and walks to the pub, giddy that Sherlock still needs him, even if it's only temporary. He reaches the little establishment and hears people cheering and laughing boisterously. He opens the door and comes face-to-face with a crowd of people in a circle around a man. On closer inspection, it turns out the man is Sherlock. He's drinking what looks like whiskey and he has two empty bottles next to him. He's chugging down a new bottle and John steps up to pull it away. Everyone groans and boos John..

"Alright everyone, show's over."

He picks up Sherlock, who's having a fun time giggling and tugging at John's hair.

"What were you thinking Sherlock? You idiot! I was ten minutes away. How did you manage to drink that much and become that drunk in ten minutes?"

"It's forrrr the cath, John. He'th inthide." Sherlock drawls.

Ah, the dreaded, yet adorable lisp. "Who's inside?"

"Thuthpect. I'm thleepy!" he stomps his foot down, obviously very drunk.

"Come on then. Let's take you home."

He tries to flag down a cab but none will take what seems like a very drunk man and his companion. He looks up and spots one of Mycroft's CCTV cameras and he looks pleadingly into one of them. He sits Sherlock onto a bench in a nearby bus shelter.

_Ahhhhh._

John nearly drops Sherlock's head onto the bench.

"What wath that, John?"

"Dunno. I think it was a lady down the street."

"Oh. Okay." He sighs and falls asleep.

_Now's my chance_ John thinks. He reaches and grabs Sherlock's phone from his pocket. Sherlock whines and turns over.

_Finally. Now. To delete the stupid sound _John grins. A black car pulls up and John rouses Sherlock enough to make him walk to the car. He lays down and John lays Sherlock's head on his lap. He runs his fingers through the curls and scrunches his nose in disgust when he smells the whisky wafting from him. He finds the moan and deletes it. _So, Sherlock _had _figured out the code to the noise. Why hadn't he deleted it?_ Now, it was time to make Sherlock pay. He calls Mycroft and he answers on the third ring.

"Ah. Hello, Doctor Watson."

"Er, hi Mycroft. Thanks again for the car. You know how stupid Sherlock gets when he has a case."

"Yes, doctor, I know all too well. Now, what is it you need help with?"

"Ha. About that, I need to meet you in your office. I don't feel comfortable doing this with Sherlock right here. Can I come over tomorrow? I'm sure Sherlock will be nursing a hangover and he'll be busy finishing the case."

"Of course. A car will be sent over at around twelve. My brother should be gone by then. I'll see you tomorrow, Doctor Watson."

"Good night, Mycroft."

John closes his phone and tucks Sherlock's phone into his pocket. He shoves his own phone into Sherlock's pocket and hopes that Sherlock doesn't notice until later on tomorrow, too busy with his hangover.


	3. Chapter 3

As hoped, Sherlock complains and takes a few pills before rushing off to tell Lestrade what happened the night before. The black car appears a half-hour after Sherlock runs off and John heads downstairs. He opens the door of the black car and sees Anthea sitting, texting as always. She looks up and smiles, "John."

"Wait- you know my name?"

"Of course. I'm not an idiot." she grins widely, showing too much teeth and resumes texting. John nods and looks out the window. The car eventually pulls up to a very nice restaurant with no name. John slips out of the car and wishes he had dressed more fashionably. He heads to the front desk and looks around in awe.

"Ah, monsieur Watson, right this way."

John jumps in surprise when the kind old man tugs on his arm.

"Er, right. Sorry."

The man takes him through the large, open layout, winding through the many tables until they reach a secluded booth. Mycroft looks up and sets down his newspaper.

"Doctor Watson, Anthea, please sit."

John whips around and sees Anthea grins unnervingly at him. He sits opposite the two.

"I thought we were meeting in your office?"

"I believed some breakfast would be nice. So Doctor, what is it you need my assistance with?" he smiles, the grimace looking similar to Anthea's grin before.

"Well-" he gets cut off by the same old man from before coming and setting coffee down in front of the three. He asks them for their orders and John decides on Eggs Benedict and some orange slices.

"Erm, as I was saying. Um. Sherlock recently met Irene and she got her hands on his phone. It's been making this…inappropriate sound and it's been bugging me. I was wondering if you know how to change it to something else just as permanent and embarrassing, y'know? Just for fun." he rushes, heat flooding to his cheeks.

"I don't know much about phones but I'm sure Anthea here can help. I understand that you have affection toward my brother. I can assure you that if you manage to hurt him in either an emotional or physical way, I will find a way to make sure your existence on this earth disappear."

John gulps and blushes deeper, "I don't have a crush on-"

"Oh do shut it John. Stop acting so obtuse. Everyone can see you harbour strong feelings toward my brother and he might as well."

John frowns at that, "He doesn't, Mycroft. He never has. Besides, recently he's been pulling away from me. I'm just doing this because it might be the last chance I get to prank Sherlock. I'm almost positive he's kicking me out soon. He's grown bored of me." John feels his throat tighten and he sips the bitter coffee.

"Dear god, you are terribly unperceptive."

John's mouth opens to retort harshly but luckily the waiter comes to their table.

"I'll be sure to make Anthea help you on the way back to 221B," Mycroft drawled, "Please do stop this flitting around each other like you don't know what to do."

John's eyes narrow and he swallows his bite of English muffin and poached egg.

"Oh, like you've been flitting around Greg?" John smirks.

Mycroft chokes on his crepe and Anthea's eyes widen though she doesn't move to help her choking employer.

"Yeah, I've noticed. Besides, Greg's been talking about you a bit. Sherlock's growing really annoyed about it. It's funny."

They stare each other down and eventually, Mycroft gives one of his cryptic smiles.

"Let's eat our breakfast shall we."

They both continue eating and the silence soon becomes unbearable. Luckily, the three of them finish their food.

"Er, thanks again Mycroft. I really appreciate it. I'll be sure to put in a good word to Greg about you."

Mycroft nods, "Thank you, Doctor. I'll pay for the bill, don't worry."

John smiles and gets up, "See you soon. Have a good rest of the day."

He gets up and heads back outside, a car waiting already. He slips in and receives a text from Sherlock. Well, himself, more like.

John: Received at 13:34  
John! I need my phone!  
Why do I have your phone?  
SH

Sent at 13:35 to John  
Sorry. I'm guessing I accidentally switched  
them yesterday when I dropped them.  
I'll give it back when you come home  
When will you be back?

"So, you want to know how to change a ringtone?"

John looks up to Anthea, who is actually looking at him rather than her screen.

"Yeah. How do I set about doing that?"

She pulls the phone from his grasp and presses a few buttons before returning it.

"There. It should save at least three recording. You can delete the ones you don't want by pressing these buttons. He shouldn't be able to figure it out. I did it when Mr. Holmes was annoying me a few years back. He never figured it out. It nearly cost me my job but it was worth it. Sometimes, they really are too smart to figure out the simplest things."

John grins and thanks her. The phone beeps and he checks the text.

John: Received at 13:39  
Around five or six.  
I am currently in Bristol.  
Pick up some Indian.  
See you at home.  
SH

John smiles sadly at the word home. How long would it be until home wasn't home and he was searching for a new flat?

Sent at 13:40 to John  
Okay. Wait, how are you getting home?

John: Received at 13:40  
Tube.  
SH

Sent at 13:41 to John  
Oh god. Please don't deduce  
anyone on the tube.  
I'd like to be able to enjoy the  
rest of my day without having to  
wash cuts and bruises off of your face :-/

John: Received at 13:42  
Please do not be so melodramatic.  
And you know how I dislike emoticons.  
I promise to keep to myself because your  
opinion means the world to me.  
SH

John giggles and jumps when Anthea taps his arm.

"We're here, John."

"Oh. Thanks again Anthea."

She nods and John gets out of the car, growing sick of it's sickly sweet smell.

Sent at 13:44 to John  
I can sense the sarcasm.  
I'll be here, with the food of course.

John smiles to himself. Oh, he is going to have fun with Sherlock's new ringtone.


	4. Chapter 4: M content!

**A/N: Hello, everyone! Well, this is the M chapter. Please skip if you don't like this. Do remember, this is M/M. Let me repeat, this is man on man action. Okay. That's all. Have fun reading!  
-Kennedy**

* * *

He climbs up the stairs, thankful that Mrs. Hudson is in America, on a road-trip with her sister and nephews. John removes his jacket and shoes, eager to begin. Ah, what to do. Maybe a song, one that Sherlock despised. Or Anderson's voice. This is going to be hard. He frowns and sits in his chair, the union jack pillow fitting perfectly with his aching back. He opens his laptop and searches annoying sounds on the internet. _Fart sounds: too immature. Bees buzzing: the sod would probably like it. God damn why does everything have to do with bathroom sounds? Oh! I'm an idiot. I should have thought of this before._

John shuts the laptop and heads upstairs to his slightly cold room. He shuts the door and locks it. His stomach clenches in anticipation. He strips down until he's wearing nothing and he feels himself become half-hard. He's actually doing it. He lays the phone by his head as he lays down on the bed. Planning to have a wank is more awkward than spontaneously doing it. _Ah, okay. Think about Sherlock. Mmm, Sherlock on his knees. _John grabs a hold on his fully erect cock and stokes it softly. He thanks his lucky stars that all he has to do with the phone is press a button and it records and ends on its own. Soon enough, John's fantasy overtakes his mind. _"So Sherlock, you really want this?"_

_Sherlock shakes his long, wavy hair out of his now blue eyes._

"_Yes." he growls._

_I smirk at him and pin him against the wall of some see through bathroom I read about located in Switzerland._

_I lift Sherlock up and he wraps those magnificent long legs around me. We rub our throbbing cocks against each other and he whimpers. I nip the expanse of his porcelain neck and pull back when there's a nice bright red circle._

"_Mine." I groan and he moans backing response._

"_Yours."_

_I turn him so he's facing the outside world and I place my hands on his bum._

"_Doesn't it feel good? Doesn't it feel naughty? So many people around us and no one can see how gorgeous you look right now."_

_I nudge his soft cheeks apart and I slip my penis into his inviting arse. Sherlock quivers. He clenches around my invading cock and I give a sharp cry. I pound into him as soon as I feel him roving his hips to collect friction. He practically mewls, so vulnerable and open and just free from his own mind. One of his hands steadily holds himself up against the glass as the other reaches around to grip my hip with a bruising grasp. I move faster and he turns himself to face me. It feels so wonderful and I shove his back onto the wall. His hands move to my shoulders and his mouth moves to nip at the edge of my bullet wound. The flesh is more tender and nerve sensitive than the rest of my body and I slam deeper into him at the feel of his exquisite lips sucking at the skin. I grab his solid hard cock and stroke it roughly. Sherlock moans wantonly and he seeks my lips for a raw, bruising kiss. My lip starts bleeding at the passion he puts into it but we both ignore it. I feel Sherlock nearing the end as am I. I speed up, hitting his prostate nearly ever time. He starts clenching around me and I let out a breathy groan-_

John's arm reaches toward the phone, nearing his climax. He presses the button just as he groans sultrily. His hand speeds up and he presses the second button. He's gasping and as he presses the third button, he climaxes.

"Sherlock!" he screams, streaks of white decoration his creamy tan stomach. He smiles to himself and gets up to wash himself off. He returns and dresses into a pine green jumper from Greg and some dark trousers. He reaches for the phone and listens to the three recordings. The first sounds very erotic and he feels his face heat up. The second is compiled of breathy moans and Sherlock's name being whispered. The third is himself screaming Sherlock's name and him moaning as he rides out his climax. He saves the first one and deletes the other two, albeit grudgingly. He sets the moans as Sherlock's new tone for his own contact and a few other people. John bites his lip and sets to enjoy the rest of his day before Sherlock returns.


	5. Chapter 5

At around a quarter to four, John gets up and orders some Indian food. It arrives twenty minutes later as does a text which is announced his deep groan. John chuckles to himself and opens the text.

John: Received at 17:12  
I am nearly there.  
Did you buy some food?  
I am surprising still hungry.  
SH

Sent at 17:13 to John  
Yeah. You should be.  
If you hadn't been, I would've  
forced it down your throat! :-P  
I'll be here, waiting as  
your food grows cold.

John: Received at 17:15  
Again with the dramatics.  
And the emoticons.  
I am around five minutes away.  
SH

John smiles and feels butterflies at the thought of Sherlock so close to home. He'd missed Sherlock and he'd only been away the day. The door opens and the sound of "John!" and Sherlock's frantic feet on the stairs makes him feel warm and happy.

"John! You won't believe how terribly Neanderthal the people on the tube were. There was a horrid couple making out when the boyfriend was clearly gay and the girlfriend was cheating on him. There was this woman who was becoming aroused from the two and she actually started touching herself! She thought no one would notice but-"

"Yes Sherlock, of course you did."

"Exactly! There was another woman and her husband. The husband was a pedophile and the wife had an issue with drugs. I pity their child. He'll grow up being molested and abused and most likely turn to bullying and killing."

John winces for the poor boy and maneuvers Sherlock so he's sitting on the dining room chair. He piles some food on a plate and sets it in front of Sherlock, all the while nodding and murmuring at his rants about the plebeian people on the tube. He sits and starts eating and soon enough, Sherlock picks at his own food. The two eat in a comfortable, familiar silence which is of course broken by none other than Sherlock.

"Where's my phone?"

"Oh, I have it."

"Yes, I know but why do you have it?"

"Like I said, I dropped both our phones when you were drunk. Why were you drunk?"

"Case."

"Yeah, you said that but what in the case required you to become too drunk to function?"

"The suspect had been drinking heavily and I wanted to see if he would have been able to murder someone. He had arrived at the bar and drunken nearly four bottles before stumbling back to his home. During that time, someone had murdered his family and framed it so it seemed like he was the culprit. When he reached his home, he clearly wasn't in his right mind and touched his newly massacred family and the weapon used to kill them. When the police got there, it was portrayed like the murderer had planned. The man was too intoxicated to prove himself innocent so-"

"So you proved it for him." John cuts in, suddenly understanding

"Exactly. If I became intoxicated enough, I could be able to prove if he had been sober enough to have committed the murder. I may have gotten too carried away but I was able to prove the man innocent. I had to go to Bristol because that's where the murder lived. He had been the suspect's former friend and secret lover. He resented the fact that the suspect had found a family and left him behind so he, of course, came to London to murder the man's family. Love is such a pathetic reason to commit a homicide."

John swallows and suddenly his food doesn't seem so appealing.

"Poor bloke. What happened to him?"

"Oh, he committed suicide when he found out about the decease of his family."

John winces for what seems like the fifth time in such a short time span.

"John?"

"Yeah Sherlock?"

"Can I have my phone now?"


	6. Chapter 6

The sound of rain pounding at his window wakes John up from a fitful night of uncomfortable sleeping. He rubs his bleary eyes and jumps when he sees Sherlock sitting at the edge of his bed.

"What're y'doin'?"

"Why?"

"Why what?" John sits up sluggishly and looks at Sherlock, who looks quite heavenly.

"My phone!" Sherlock frowns and glares at John.

"Oh. That."

"Yes. Why?"

"The other one was irritating me so I changed it."

"To you groaning."

"Yes." John blushes.

"Why?"

"Can you stop being so cryptic and tell me what you're asking about?"

"Why did you change it to you groaning when anything else could have been acceptable."

"I thought it would be funny and since you didn't seem to mind how…sensual the last one was, I left it erotic."

Sherlock cocks his head and leans in close.

"I don't think that's why." he murmurs in the shell of John's ear and John trembles. Sherlock scrambles out of John's bed and smirks over at him.

"Ah, so you weren't jealous because the woman was 'chatting me up', as you would put it. You were jealous for a different reason entirely. But jealous about what?" he mutters and John frowns, though his blush gives him away.

"I wasn't jealous. What makes you thin-"

"Come on, John. Lestrade has a case."

"It's pouring rain! And you just finished a case!" John feels his heart twinge in happiness at being included in cases again. He's also a bit happy to be off the topic of moans and groans and non-effective pranks

"The rain doesn't stop killers from killing. Now, get up! I made tea and toast. You'll have to take it with us."

John sits in shock and his lips quirk up into a bit of a smile.

"You made toast?"

"And tea. Do keep up. Now hurry! I will leave you behind."

Sherlock sweeps out of the bedroom and retreats to his own to change. John slips out of his own bed and changes into a warm cobalt blue jumper and some grey trousers. He puts on some good running shoes and gets the umbrella hanging on a hook. He clomps down the stairs and smiles at the sight of burnt toast slathered with jam and over brewed tea. He grabs the slice and chews it happily and he pours the tea in a traveling mug. Sherlock's huff of impatience makes John roll his eyes."I'm coming, Sherlock. Hold your horses."

John practically hears his scowl and he giggles. He heads into the living room and Sherlock jumps up and he winds his scarf onto his long neck. He holds the door open and ushers John out. John walks down the steps and moves to the side as Sherlock eagerly rushes down the stairs. John flips the heater on and hopes the flat warms by the time they come back. As soon as John reaches the door, he finds there's a cab waiting to take them to the NSY.

~o~o~

"Lestrade." Sherlock greets and he barges into Lestrade's office, "Where are the folders?"

"Good morning, Greg."

"Hullo, Sherlock, John." Lestrade sighs as he spots Sherlock flipping avidly through the case's files.

"So, what's this about?"

"Five teenagers have been found dead in a high school nearby. No one knows why they were killed."

"Was there anything that connected the victims?" John asks, feeling queasy whenever kids or teenagers are involved.

"No. They were different genders and they all were in different social statuses, I guess I would say."

Sherlock turns to Lestrade and questions, "Is the crime scene still there?"

"Well, yeah but-"

"Come along, John. We have some investigating to do."

"Sherlock, the bodies aren't there anymore."

Sherlock whirls around, a thunderous look on his face.

"What do you mean the bodies aren't there anymore? You idiots are honestly so brainless sometimes. How else am I supposed to find out what happened?"

The tips of Lestrade's ears are the only sign that he feels sorry but other than that, he is standing tall and has a courageous glint in his eyes, "Now, look here Sherlock. I understand you're mad-"

"Try infuriated."

Lestrade rubs his forehead, "infuriated that we moved the bodies but they had been murdered last week and their families wanted to have funerals for them! I guess I would say you're in good luck because the most recent kid was murdered yesterday and he was a foster child so he has no one to have a funeral for him. His body is still there-"

Sherlock rushes out and John follows, rolling his eyes yet smiling at the man he has an ever-growing affection for. He hears Lestrade round up his team as they head to investigate the scene as well. The rain is still falling heavily and john is grateful when he sees Sherlock has a cab waiting for him. He sits inside and turns to Sherlock questioningly.

"How do you know where the school is?"

Sherlock smirks over at John, "The folder, of course."

"Oh."


	7. Chapter 7

They pull up and find the school is deserted and looking terribly dark and gloomy. The shining lights do nothing to alleviate the dreary feeling the school gives off. John pays the cabbie and runs through the rain, clutching his umbrella tightly. He shakes the water off and follows Sherlock inside the school. He looks back and sees Lestrade following with the rest of the team. Luckily, he doesn't see Anderson and in his head, he wipes his forehead in relief. John finds the taped off area and sees a poor boy on the floor being scrutinized and deduced by Sherlock. John does a once-over of the boy himself from where he's standing and finds nothing of importance: red headed boy, tall, maybe around six foot, wearing what probably used to be a purple shirt and grey jeans. He looks like he may have played rugby, given the size of his shoulders. Sherlock motions for John to examine the body and is happy when he sees Lestrade doesn't indicate that he might disagree. He scoot underneath the tape and tries not to get blood on his shoes or anywhere on him for that matter.

"Er, he has a slit throat. Very deep, sizing by how much blood there is. He has a few bruises and cuts on his arms and legs but I'm sure they're from playing rugby. That's about it. Not very much, is i-"

John stops and looks closer at the boy's shirt. Nearing the bottom corner, he spots a blood patch that looks different from the other splotches on the boy's shirt. He signs for a pair of gloves which Sherlock hands him immediately. John slips them on and pulls the boy's shirt up.

"Oh. He left a message." John gulps.

Sherlock and the rest of the team leans in and reads the sentence, carved in with perfect, legible penmanship: _This is what you get, you fucking homophobe._

Lestrade and Donovan pull back and look at each other in alarm and Sherlock turns to John, smiling in an unreserved way."That was amazing, John. You've just helped me prove my point!"

John feels himself heat up at the compliment.

"What point? And how?" he asks.

"You helped me prove my own point. I suspected the victims were somehow connected. They were all homophobic and the killer obviously had been picked on by the victims for being homosexual. He decided the best revenge would be to murder these kids. Now, I need to find out how he did it while in school and who he is."

"Wait, how do you know it's a he?"

"Females don't usually let other's know they're interested in other females. Males tend to act more feminine if gay and are picked on because of it."

Sherlock moves the body a bit and opens the locker behind the boy. He searches it and John admires his pale neck from where he stands and licks his lip subconsciously. He hears Sherlock murmur and watches as he lifts a bag. Underneath it is a vent and he sees Sherlock smile.

"The killer came and went through the vents. The lockers would be big enough for him to stand in and wait for one of the victims to fetch a book or a sweater. I believe there's a vent in each locker to freshen them. Most likely a new investment the school just funded. All the vents connect and end up in one main area."

"Honestly Sherlock, you're absolutely brilliant." John mutters, watching Sherlock with awe. Sherlock grins softly at John before he wipes it away. He opens his mouth to tell Lestrade something but is interrupted by a very loud, echoing groan.

_Hnnnnagh._

Everyone's eyes widen and John feels himself grow very red.

"Sherlock, what was that?"

Sherlock's mouth is shut tight and it looks as if he has to pry them open to speak.

"John."

Donovan and Lestrade look over at John and he looks away.

"Er, what do you mean by-"

"John recorded himself groaning and set it as my new ringtone. Now, Lestrade, back to the case! Search for a boy, probably around sixteen and skinnier than an average teenager. He may be around John's height and he has brown hair."

Donovan looks over at one of the cops named Toby and she raises her eyebrows at him. Lestrade is still a bit shocked and he looks flustered.

"How do you know this?" he manages to ask.

"Easy. He'd have to be at an age where he's most likely to know how to not get caught and how to lie correctly. Therefore, he'll be around sixteen. He has to be skinny and short enough to fit in the vents and in the lockers, yet not too small that he can't pin a person down. There is a few brown hairs on the victim on the floor, most likely when the rugby player tried to pull the boy off of his person by his hair. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have something to do. Text me when you find the boy."

Sherlock slinks off and John follows, still feeling embarrassed. He watches as Sherlock opens the text and quickly understands who it is from.

"What does Mycroft want?"

Sherlock turns to John and looks into his eyes, an unreadable expression lurking beneath his ever-changeable eyes.

"Nothing. He's not important. Let's head home, shall we? This case wasn't worth my time. I could have been working on my experiment."

John smiles at him and walks to the front door, all the while opening up his umbrella. He holds the door open for Sherlock and they walk to the pavement. John lifts the umbrella higher as Sherlock signals for a cab. A wild cab comes out of the blue and they hop in. as soon as the door closes, Sherlock is greeted with another groan. The cabbie looks in his rearview mirror in suspicion and John gives a nervous chuckle.

"It's his phone. We're not doin-"

Sherlock closes the window and John frowns over at him. He huffs and sits back, looking out the window at the beautiful gloomy day. Soon enough, John breaks and he turns to Sherlock, "Who texted you when we got into the cab?"

"Mycroft." he spits out in disgust.

"Why is he texting you? Another dentist appointment?"

"I don't know and I don't care to know."

John nods slowly and turns back to his view. Suddenly, he thinks changing Sherlock's phone wasn't such a good idea. It clearly hadn't worked. _Wait, worked how? _John asks himself. _I guess I wanted him to understand I like him. Or I wanted him to shove me up against a wall and shag me senseless like one of those ridiculous fan fictions I've read about Doctor Who. _John blushes at the thought of those ludicrous, explicit stories and he feels something stir in his stomach at the though of him and Sherlock in many of those situations. Oh, how technology was not working in his favor as of recent.


	8. Chapter 8

As the cab pulls up, John notices Sherlock watching him with a weird expression on his face. Used to Sherlock's antics, he opens the window and pays the cabbie who seems to be eyeing him up. John smiles nervously at him and steps out into the slightly lessening rain. He rushes and unlocks the door, hoping to not get too soaked. He feels Sherlock standing a bit too close to him and John warms at the heat he's giving off. Well, it could also be because of the heater but John wants it to be because of Sherlock. He walks up the steps, the day still quite early though the view outside says otherwise. He sighs and heads to make some tea.

"There's no milk."

John sighs and rubs his temple, "And why not? It's only been a few hours since you solved the last case. How do you get bored so quickly?"

He is greeted with no response from Sherlock and John sits on a chair nearby, frowning. He really doesn't want to go back to the store in this weather. John decides to ask Mrs. Hudson for some milk and as he heads for the door, he remembers she's still on her road-trip and won't be back for another week. John gives up and settles on taking a shower to get out of his cold, damp clothes. He goes upstairs and feels Sherlock's burning gaze boring holes into his back. He almost wants to turn and tell Sherlock he already has a hole in his body and he doesn't need two more, thank you very much but he exhales in defeat. John opens the door to his room gratefully and he finds a soft t-shirt and some lounging trousers. John pulls his clothes off and feels thankful that he decided to turn the heater on before he left. He wraps a towel on his waist and walks to the bathroom on the first landing. He feels Sherlock's eyes flick over to watch him again. He shuts the door and locks it, knowing full well that Sherlock has no trouble picking it open. John drops his towel and notices Sherlock's gaze has made him hard. He decides to take a cold shower and he hurries to finish as the freezing water bites at his skin. He jumps out and dries himself thoroughly. He dresses and is grateful when the warm air from the flat swirls around him as he opens the door. John heads downstairs and finds Sherlock sprawled on the couch, his hands in his ever-famous praying pose. He has four patches on his arm, one more than usual.

"I don't think that's very healthy, Sherlock."

"I needed it. I'm close to figuring it out."

"Figuring what out, exactly? You already solved this case."

Sherlock turns to him and cocks his head. As his luscious lips open to retort, his phone groans. John feels his face go red and he watches as Sherlock gives him one last, indecipherable look before he turns his attention to reading the text.

"They found the boy. His name was Conner Parks. He confessed to everything. Lestrade needs me to come to his office tomorrow. He most likely wants to talk about why my phone groans."

John feels himself tense up when Sherlock says 'me' and not 'us'. He doesn't want Sherlock near Greg. He hears the possessive side in his mind growl 'Mine.' and he shudders. The rational part of John's mind reminds him that Greg likes Mycroft, not Sherlock. He sighs and decides that these feeling haven't helped him and his relationship with Sherlock. _Might as well kick myself out now. It'd hurt worse if he did it himself. Spare myself the pain. _John's heart twinges agonizingly as he starts to ramble.

"Oh. That's good. Good for you. So, I guess you won't be needing me anymore, huh? I mean, I can find somewhere else to live. I understand this was my last case with you and I can pack right away and you don't need to make this anymore awkward than it nee-"

"What?" Sherlock asks, furrowing his eyebrows in a child-like way.

"You don't need me anymore. I understand. I mean, you've been pulling away and solving cases yourself. I mean, I though having waited for you for three years would have stopped you from being bored of me but it's fine. Like I said before, it's all fine," John finishes and straightens his back, trying to keep as much dignity as he can, "I mean, that's why I changed your tone. It was my last chance to prank you and to have a bit of fun. I can delete it if you want."

He swallows and feels his eyes sting. It takes all he has to not confess his love of the unruly man before him. Sherlock stands and has the audacity to smirk at him. John feels his heart break and readies himself for Sherlock to agree and push him out the door.

"You're lying."

John frowns in confusion and looks up into Sherlock's almond shaped eyes.

"Lying about what?"

"The phone." Sherlock says, _obviously _attached to the end of the sentence.

"How? Everything I said was true."

"Oh, I know _you _thought it was true but none of it is. I'm not kicking you out, for one. I could never kick you out. You're my blogger and my friend," Sherlock announces, " and that's how I know you're lying. You didn't just change my ringtone as a prank. I've finally figured it out."

John swallows and steps back as Sherlock stands and walks toward him.

"You _were_ jealous but not for the reason I thought. There's always something I miss."

John looks down at his shoes and bites his lower lip.

Sherlock leans in and kisses John. John quivers but pulls back.

"Sherlock, now is not the time to be toying with my emotions."

"Oh, but I'm not. Everything is clear to me now. The Woman's moan annoyed you. But it annoyed you because you wanted _me_. Not her. So as payback, you changed it to you groaning, hoping that I'd notice. You played it off as you wanting to prank me which is partially true. The one thing you got absolutely wrong, though, was that I want you to leave. Don't you see?"

John shakes his head, head still reeling from the kiss.

"Of course not. I don't want you to leave. I have… affections for you as well."

He ducks his head and John lift his face to look into his eyes. Marvelous hybrid eyes, complete with luscious dark lashes. His eyebrows crumple together and before he can speak, John kisses him. They kiss for what seems like days and when they part, John grins at him.

"You like me too, eh?"

"Don't make me repeat myself. You know I detest that."

"Good."

"Are you sure, John? I know I can be unbearable at times and I can't promise that I'll change."

"I don't want you to."

Sherlock smiles at John and their lips meet again.

_Hnnnnagh._

They pull apart and John blushes.

"Are you going to delete that?"

"I quite like it but I'd rather hear the real thing."

"Oh, god yes."

* * *

**A/N: Hello ^.^ I hope you liked the story! If you need me to elaborate on anything or if you want to Beta or brit-pick this, I'd be happy to listen to your suggestions or accept your help. Welp, bye!**


	9. Epilogue

**A/N: Hey guys! So I decided to make an epilogue for The Groan. Yep! It's really silly xD Don't exactly know why I wrote it :P It has a few reactions to the couple and it's mostly just fluff. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it and thank you to everyone who reviewed! It made me feel happy inside ^.^ Well, I hope you enjoy! -Kennedy (P.S. I may be uploading a new story this or next week. It's crazy but I really enjoyed writing it. It's called Never Ignore a Madman.) **

* * *

"Wake up, John!" Sherlock bounces on John's bed.

"What's happenin' ?" John mumbles, still bleary from sleep.

"Lestrade! We have to go give our statements and fill out paperwork. He also wants to know about the phone. I think he'll be pleased to know he's won the pool. Come on!" Sherlock leaves dramatically and John gets up, stretching his tired muscles. Of course everyone at NSY would bet on when they would start dating. He dresses in his favorite oatmeal-colored jumper and some dark blue jeans. He pulls his jacket on and heads downstairs. Sherlock impatiently goes to flag down a cab and John follows behind. The drive on the way is quiet and the sky is still a dark grey. Once they arrive, John thanks and pays the cabbie. He climbs out and is happily surprised when Sherlock grabs a hold of his hand. Their noses are pink from the chilly air and as soon as they enter the building, it starts to sprinkle. The people around them whisper and smile when they spot John and Sherlock, hand-in-hand. They go upstairs and when the elevator doors open, they're met with silence. It's broken when Donovan curses, "Damn it all! _Toby_! Tell Lestrade he won!"

She slips John a small smile and John smiles back. Donovan is more happy and nicer now that she's dating Toby. She gave Anderson the boot about a month after Sherlock and his…fall. John hasn't forgiven her all the way but they're better acquaintances. Even her and Sherlock get along better than before. John and Sherlock walk into Lestrade's office and he grins at the sight of them.

"Finally together, eh?"

"Don't be dull, Lestrade."

"Yes, we are." John inputs after.

Lestrade nods and turns to Sherlock in question.

"You want to know about the phone." Sherlock quips.

"Er, yeah actually."

Sherlock stares plainly at him and John rolls his eyes.

"I guess I'll tell you." he motions.

ooo

"Jesus! I didn't need to know _everything_!"

John smirks at Lestrade's pink ears.

"I was doing it for amusement. I know everyone is outside the door listening in on our conversation. Now, where are the statement papers? I want to get home and shag Sherlock's brains out."

Lestrade gapes at the two and Sherlock, having heard the word shag, hurries to grab the papers and fill them out quickly. John fills his out with a smug look on his face. He tosses the papers on to Lestrade's desk and they head for the door. As John opens it, he hears the clatter of people running to their seats. He grins and tugs Sherlock's hand. They walk into the middle of the room and John grabs the lapels of Sherlock's coat. He brings him down for a hard kiss and people around the room whistle and clap. He hears someone say, "Hopefully, he'll be less of a jerk to us now that he has somebody!" John pulls back and smiles up at Sherlock. Sherlock's lips curl upwards but drop at the sound of Anderson.

"We don't need your show-and-tell here. Why don't you two go kiss somewhere else. Some of us want to keep out breakfast in, not out."

Toby turns and glares at Anderson with such ferocity that the rat-faced man quiets down and leaves the room. John nods in thanks at the man and Toby eagerly smiles back at him. Sherlock and John leave the floor and head downstairs to the lobby. Sherlock pulls his coat above the both of their heads as they run through the rain to find a cab. Once inside the warm car, Sherlock smirks and lays his hand directly on John's crotch. John jumps and looks at Sherlock incredulously.

"I can't wait to get home." Sherlock says, fluttering his eyes seductively.

John feigns innocence, "Why?"

"So you can keep your word and shag me." he mutters in John's ear and John licks his lips.

ooo

Once they arrive at the flat and the door is closed soundly behind them, John pushes Sherlock against the wall and kisses him ferociously. They nip at each other's lips and Sherlock lets out a breathy moan when John sucks on the man's collarbone. Sherlock grinds their clothed cocks and John shudders. They kiss more passionately and John groans, a long, very sensual sound. Both men jump when they hear Mrs. Hudson clear her throat.

"Sorry to interrupt dears, but I was wondering if you could take this upstairs. Don't worry about me either; I'm heading out. Do be mindful of your neighbors though. The walls are very thin."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Hudson! I sound proofed both rooms when I moved in!" Sherlock chirps as he drags John upstairs.

ooo

A few hours later, both men are properly sated. Sherlock props his head up and looks at John.

"I researched relationships yesterday and I saw that most couples wait until at least two weeks into the relationship to have sex. Why did we have sex the first day we were in a relationship?"

John frowns and tucks an arm underneath his head, "Do you not want to have sex? Do you want to wait?"

"No! I just wanted to know. I'm new to being in a romantic and physical relationship with someone."

John licks his lips, "Well, we're not exactly a traditional couple. We've been friends for nearly three years so we know more about each other than most normal couples know about each other. Most couples don't have consulting detectives. Most couples fight about someone leaving socks on the floor. We fight about someone leaving toes in the sink. It's only natural that we went the non-traditional route."

John pushes Sherlock onto his back softly and he lays his head in the crook of Sherlock's arm. Sherlock seems to be processing John's words and is absent-mindedly running his fingers through John's hair.

"That makes sense." Sherlock answers at last.

John hums in agreement and kisses Sherlock softly. They shift so they're laying on their sides. John looks into Sherlock's half-lidded eyes.

"You're gorgeous." John murmurs and Sherlock smiles in thanks.

"As are you." Sherlock responds, swooping in for another chaste kiss.

They stay like that for a couple of hours, drifting in and out of sleep. Soon enough, night-time creeps in and the luminescent lights from outside filter into Sherlock's room.

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"When do most couples get married?"

John sits up quickly and looks down at Sherlock in shock.

"A- are you? A-"

"No, John. Not yet. I just want to know."

"Well, it depends on the couple. Some have only known each other for a few months, others a few years. Either way, not all of them work out."

Sherlock scoffs, "That's obvious! How many murders have we solved where love and marriage _weren't _involved in the reasoning?"

John giggles and licks his lips, "So you weren't proposing?"

"Not yet, no."

John smiles at the prospect of Sherlock proposing to him and knows it'll most likely be unique and probably very odd.

"We should get up soon." Sherlock says in reluctance.

"Yeah. I'm hungry." John's stomach growls as if to emphasize the point.

John stands, Sherlock's white sheet wrapped around his naked form. Sherlock follows in just his robe, loosely tied at his waist. They head into the kitchen and Sherlock sits on the bench. John walks around the kitchen and eventually decides on some beans on toast.

"I need to work out more. I'm growing pudgy. You'd think running around after you would help me lose weight, not gain it!" John says, pinching at his growing belly.

Sherlock frowns and shakes his head, "I like it. It gives me more to grab onto and more to kiss. If you still feel self-conscious, you can lose it but I won't be entirely happy about it."

John sits with his plate and slides Sherlock's over, "You really like it? You know, if I keep it, I soon won't be able to catch up to you. How about this: I lose it for now but when we decide to retire, I'll let it come back?"

Sherlock sighs but agrees.

John rolls his eyes and feeds Sherlock some beans.

~o~o~

"When is it okay to have kids?" Sherlock asks one day as John and him are taking a stroll in the park.

"Er, when the couple feels comfortable enough to raise a child together. Why are you asking?"

"That couple over there seems very happy with their child whereas that couple over there seems very distraught and unpleased. I believe the first couple is Mike and his wife."

I turn and spot Mike who's laughing with his wife and child in tow.

"Hey John! Didn't see you two there! How are you guys?"

"We're doing good. Thank you for all those years back. Without Sherlock over here, I'd have probably left London to leave some boring, white picket fence life."

Mike grins and looks between the two, "So, you two are-"

"Dating, yes." Sherlock answers Mike's question.

Mike chuckles and pats John's back, "You got a catch there, John. Well, hopefully I see you two soon. Bye!"

The man leaves and his family follows, smiling happily.

"Ah, I see." Sherlock comments after the family leaves.

"See what?"

"Mike and his wife are content because the child is theirs. The other couple is just babysitting and not doing a very good job of it."

I laugh and take Sherlock's hand, "Do you ever want kids or is this it for you?"

"Maybe. I'm not quite sure yet though it would be curious to see who he'd grow up being like."

"He?"

"Of course. I would never be able to take care of a girl!"

~o~o~

John and Sherlock head to Angelo's for their third anniversary. Angelo grins at the sight of the two, finally together.

"Candle, to heat things up." he says with a wink and John chuckles. Sherlock actually eats this time and there's no case to bother them. By the end, Sherlock's eaten half of his food and John's finished the rest.

"Desserts, you two?" Angelo asks, eager to serve.

"Yes, actually. Can we have the salted caramel cake?" Sherlock orders and John looks up at him in surprise. Sherlock smiles at him and John grins. The cake arrives and they eat it happily, their bodies snug against each other. As they finish, Sherlock slips out of the booth to go to the bathroom. Angelo comes over and clears their table. John starts to worry when Sherlock doesn't come back after ten minutes but Angelo just sits him back down. Sherlock emerges from the bathroom in a metallic, blue-grey suit which bring out his eyes magnificently. He has his violin in hand. John's heart throbs in happiness and Sherlock smiles sheepishly. He begins to play a song John hasn't heard and by the end, everyone in the restaurant is clapping. Sherlock pulls John out from his seat and he gets down on one knee.

"I know this might be too cheesy and too normal but I think you deserve normal for big occasions. I love you, John, and I care for you deeply. I hope we stay together for a very long time, eons to be truthful. Will you marry me, John Hamish Watson?"

John struggles for breath and people around the place whisper for him to say yes. He manages to sputter out a yes and Sherlock gives him a wide beam. They kiss softly and Angelo cries with joy. Everyone cheers and the boys go home, elated and very much in love.

~o~o~

Fourty years later, Sherlock and John are sitting on the porch of their cottage. John watches his grandchildren run around, chasing the butterflies and bunnies in the fields. He spots his son and beckons for him to come over.

"Yeah, dad?"

"Where's your sister?"

"She said she'll be here in twenty minutes. Said Myke is being a bugger and not putting on his clothes."

John smiles at Hamish and he watches his son go inside to help his wife with the baby. Sherlock rests his head against John's shoulder and John sighs contentedly. They stay like that for a while, watching the beautiful sky and the luscious clouds float by. A car pulls up and their daughter steps out. She smiles and waves at the two and they wave back. Hamish heads to help his sister unbuckle her two kids. The two rascals race out to greet their cousins. Molly grabs her husband, Adam's, hand and they come up to greet Sherlock and John.

"Hey dad, papa." she hugs them both and they smile warmly at her.

"Hello, sweetie. Was the ride here fine?" Sherlock asks.

"Yep. Adam didn't get lost for once!" she laughs, moving her dirty blonde hair behind her ears.

Adam fake-scowls at her and she giggles.

"Well, make yourselves at home! Aunt Harry and Clara should be coming soon. They're taking a cab. Too old to drive now!" John laughs.

Molly sniggers and walks inside to talk to Alice. Adam and Hamish walk out back to watch the kids and talk about rugby and movies. John reaches his left hand out across Sherlock's chest to hold the man's left hand. Their rings clink and Sherlock wraps his free arm around John.

"I love you, John."

"I love you too, Sherlock."


End file.
